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She worked in the Filtration Plant, scrubbing the heavy metals from the water that the elites drank in the clouds. Every night, she smuggled a single, unrefined copper coil home in her boot. It wasn't much, but after three years, she had enough to build a pulse-jammer.
The flickering screens of the Citadel didn’t show the hunger in the Lower Wards; they only displayed the "Harmony Index," a steady, neon-green line that promised peace. For Elara, peace felt a lot like a slow-motion suffocation. Rebellion
The rebellion didn't start with a grand speech or a flag. It started at 4:00 AM on a Tuesday. Elara climbed the maintenance spire, her fingers raw from the cold, and slotted the jammer into the main broadcast array.
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